


!

by soffychubby



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4015348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soffychubby/pseuds/soffychubby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I don't quite know where to go with this, but I'm in a fluffy mood, and Johnlock is my OTP so I'm just gonna go start off and hope for a good ending. Sorry for the sloppy way of doing this! I'll come back and correct it, if I find that necesarry.</p><p>Also - thank you for all the support!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John had been married to Mary for quite some time now, and he felt himself drawn to Bakerstreet. It somehow seemed to provide him with a place to be himself - he could relax in a way he found difficult at home or at cafés. 

He was now once again on his escape to Bakerstreet, locked himself in and jumped up the well-known stairs, popping right into the living room.  
''Sherlock, are you in?'' he asked, looking around, checking for any signs of his mysterious friend. It seemed that he was out - presumably on a case. John let himself pop down in his chair, the one he knew so well, and took a moment to apprechiate the comfortable feeling he got from just looking at the livingroom. Suddenly he gazed over the dinnertable, and his eyes seemed to stick to something they didn't imediatly recognize. He frowned. The unidentified item was a black hardcover book with a brownish sort of leather wrapping around it. It looked old and valuable, and John wondered how this book could've escaped his attention for all those years.

He got up, without really thinking, only focused on satisfying a strange sort of curiosity he couldn't quite fight.  
Sherlock had never been a very open person, and the chance of John having any sort of insight in Sherlock's feelings was so tempting that John even gasped out loud - Lucky there was no one there.  
He opened the book and read the first few lines:  
''The personal journal of Sherlock Holmes.''  
John paused quickly, thinking it over. This really did put his morals to the test - but it was too late, John was already caught up and fighting his urge to read on wasn't an option anymore.  
''December. A horrible time. I cannot think of when I last did such a big amount of heroin on one day - this must surely be my personal best.'' John felt an incredible uncomfortable knot clenching in his stomach, and the urge to see Sherlock rose. The urge to check he was okay - even though he was aware of the fact that December was a long time ago, and things seemed better now. He let himself read on in the hopes of something good popping up.  
''Anderson and Donovan are now worse than ever. They're all fools, I don't know how the universe could possibly allow their existence. Molly and Lestrade makes up for it, though. They aren't very gifted - no, and they're not very bright either - no, but they make some sort of company which I can endure. It might be the loyal, nice, dog-ish feeling I get from spending time in their presence. Well, normally this would cheer me up, but I'm not sure I can live through the day. I took a case, a child's life depended on it, and I failed. This shouldn't bother me. Why does it bother me? I can't say. I can't sleep. Everytime I close my eyes, I see the child blown up into pieces, I see the crying, broken, faithless faces of their parents. I don't know how it works, but if killing me makes up for the lost life, someone better hurry up and do it. I can't. I'm a coward in every sense of the word.''  
John had to pause. He felt so bad he was afraid he might puke. He had to flip about 20 pages, reading of how much Sherlock needed him at a time, where he wasen't there, made him more sick than he had ever imagined he could be from reading. He flipped in onto late January the next year, shortly after they met.  
''The new flat mate - John (H-something????) Watson - seems like a reasonable person for an assistant. He does meet the skills such an assistant require. Apparantly he's a soldier AND a doctor - now that's convenient, isn't it? Getting shot at might end up happening when I work as a consulting detective, and having a doctor at hand might prove itself quite useful.''

John smirked. He couldn't help it. He was sitting there, alone in the very heart of 221b Baker st., and he couldn't contain that smile which cracked his face and threatened with making him laugh out loud. He flipped another 10 pages or so, and read on. It was about summertime, and Sherlock and John had been living together for quite some time by then, and John was curious to know why Sherlock would still keep a diary. The entire idea of Sherlock keeping a diary in the first place seemed odd to John, but he apprechiated it for now.  
''John HAMISH Watson. AH-HA-HA, I win.'' John had to pause and purst into his high-pitched laugh, finally understanding just how childish and adorable Sherlock actually was, and he even found himself blushing a tiny bit, being flattered by the pride Sherlock took in knowing his middle name. He continued. ''Hamish is such a sweet name, it would fit perfect for a sweet, naïve, nice person. If I ever get as lucky as to get a child (And a partner, for that matter), I'd hope for the name to be Hamish.''  
John's smile faded and his eyes intensified.  
''Having a partner is probably to much to ask for in my case, though.''  
John took in a deep breath, sensing the seriousity of what his eyes might come across.  
''As secretly loving John is difficult, hiding it is quite easy. He is not the brightest of all.''

John didn't smirk anymore. He didn't even read. He just stared at ''loving John'' in Sherlock's handwriting as intense as he was capable of. He read the line repeatedly - perhaps he misunderstood, perhaps he got something wrong. He read the bit before, the bit after, but it had no other alternative meaning. He didn't close the book - he was somehow afraid that if he did, the words might fall of the page and disapepar forever. He wouldn't allow that to happen, not now, when he finally found those precious words. He still tried to comprehend them, to fully understand them. He replayed some scenes from their rather domestic life, now through the eyes of his friend being in love with him, and he understood what a great pain he must've caused.  
That time when he got out from the shower in just his underwear - jeeesus....  
That time when he told Sherlock he was one of the people he cared most about after a lifethreatening case had been solved.  
That time when they practiced the dance for John's wedding, when he held Sherlock so gently in his arms, bent him over, leaned over him, he ...  
Jeez.  
The wedding.  
The entire wedding.  
It must've killed Sherlock to see John marry someone else.

\---

John was interrupted by noises from upstairs, it was a sort of rambling which reminded him of someone getting out of bed. He was surprised that someone was in, suddenly remembering the world around him. He looked at his watch and was baffled by just how long he had been sitting there, thinking everything over, trying to get used to the idea of Sherlock ever having romantic feelings towards anyone, especially towards him. It was all a bit too much, and John had no idea how he felt about it himself, so he shut the book and put it back where he found it, and pretended to know nothing of what he had read. This was naturally a panick-move, since he hadn't expected anyone to be in the flat.  
He was so anxious that not just the left, but both of his hands were shaking and he had to keep it down by holding his left hand with his right hand behind his back. Sherlock came down the stairs already neatly dressed, "Sorry John, I must have drifted of. I didn't quite hear you coming in, is the domestic life to bo-" He stopped and stared at the book on the table.  
John held his breath - anxious and sure that Sherlock could tell what John had done.  
He was absolutely sure Sherlock knew. Surely some detail was caught by his keen eye, John must've broken af dust patern or turned it 5 degrees a big too far to the right, something anyone else would've missed, but only Sherlock wouldn't.  
He knew that Sherlock would know.  
He stared and waited for a reaction.  
Sherlock stared at the table, and then back at John. He was reading him, and John felt very uncomfortable about it, he felt like he was just another client to Sherlock now.  
He was still holding his breath, so ashamed of what he had done - sneaking into Sherlock's private journal, he knew it was wrong. He could not bring himself to regret it, though. Learning about Sherlock thoughts was desperately needed, and Sherlock weren't exactly the sort of person who'd blabber out about his personal feelings to anyone. So this just might start the conversation they had been avoiding for all those years. John waited.   
Sherlock took in a sharp breath, and met John's eyes as if he was about to speak, but then looked down at the floor again.  
"..... Is the domestic life to boring, was what I was going to say." He said shortly, with a slightly disappointed voice.  
John awaited for another response. He was sure Sherlock had something to tell him, and he wanted to let him. Even if he wanted to tell John off for crossing personal lines, then so be it - It would perhaps even lift the guilt John felt pushing down on his shoulders.  
"Is it boring, then?"  
Sherlock apparantly insisted on not mentioning the matter for now, since he was able to meet John's eyes.  
"Uhm, yeah, well, yeah. We're busy though - with..." He had to pause.  
He couldn't, he just couldn't. He was going to say 'Hamish' which is the name of John's and Mary's now 1 year old child, but he couldn't force the name across his lips, not now when he knew what sort of feelings Sherlock had towards that very name.  
"Uhm, with work and all. It's all very stressful, so I enjoy spending some time here at good old Bakerstreet now and then." He said and simled one of those rare smile which seemed to please Sherlock so much, and for the first time the thought of kissing Sherlock came across his mind. Perhaps it was just because of the emotional rollercoaster, which Sherlock's diary had put him through, but he just for once felt like trying it. He shook the idea out of his head as quickly as he could and got his mind on other things and did as Sherlock; ignored the matter for now.  
"Oh yes, remember you wanted to eat in? I did the shopping already, no worries. I'll cook it as well, you end up burning it anyways, so I-" He stopped again. It wasen't the same. It just wasen't. Normally he would've loved this - this was his favourite time of the week - dinner with Sherlock, just being himself enjoying the company of his best friend. But suddenly John had become extremely selfaware. It wasn't his best friend anymore, was it? It was his-best-friend-who-had-had-a-secret-crush-on-him-for-years, and that just wasen't the same. John was afraid to smile and laugh with Sherlock now, afraid that it might trigger something to happen, which shouldn't. He wasen't quite aware of his own feelings about the whole thing yet, and he was therefore not sure about what might end up happening.  
Sherlock seemed to know what John felt better than John did by just glancing once at him, which somehow seemed to settle John's nerves down a bit. He tried to calm himself down 'Sherlock knows. Sherlock always knows. You don't have to put on an act.' He tried repeating it inside his mind several times, but it didn't seem to have the expected effect.

He tried his best to pretend that everything was normal. He wanted to put the kette on, make Sherlock and John one of the good old evening cuppas, but his hands shook, he spilled the boiling water everywhere, dropped the cup on the floor, talked nonsense which Sherlock didn't comment on at all - didn't even correct him - John was one big blur.  
He stood in the kitchen, starring at the kettle. John then reached a point where it was too much, and he needed to face the inevitable talk. John and Sherlock had long been in need of one of those, but none of them seemed good at that sort of communication.  
He stood in the kitchen, and turned around, where he saw Sherlock - to his surprise - standing quite close to him. 

"You want to talk" He said in that Sherlock-way that leaves you with no option of objecting.  
"Yes, I -- I" John sank twice, pulling himself together in the best soldier-way he knew. "I read some of your diary. I - I'm sorry, I just."  
Sherlock hushed him. "I know." He stared John in the eyes in a way that let John know to his surprise that he somehow didn't hold a grudge against John. If anything, he looked a bit broken.  
"What exactly did you read? Which parts of it?" He asked, moving those honest, clear eyes and focused on the tiptoes of his feet, still 100% concentrated on the conversation with John.  
"I read random bits, they didn't make much sense, but there was this one part, where you... I mean the part where you mention the name 'Hamish'." John tried his best to explain what he had read to Sherlock - without mentioning any of those strong, dangerous words, such as 'love'.  
"I mention the name Hamish quite a lot in that journal" He said, still starring at his feet.  
John blushed.  
They stood there for some time,doing nothing. There wasen't more than a foots' length between them, but still none of them did anything. It was as if they both had a waterfall of words inside their minds, but neither of them managed to let out a single syllable. Sherlock - who was the cleverest of them, afterall - suddenly looked up and tried to look John directly in the eye, although John was determined to stare at the buttons on his shirt. "How about you take it with you home? The diary, I mean. Take it with you home and read the whole thing. Let's talk about it after that." John looked up, being surprised by his suggestion, but also revealed. "That's a good idea. That will allow us to talk the whole thing through." "Mh-hm." Sherlock smiled at John, who was now able to smile back. "Let's have dinner first, though" Sherlock said, turning his back on John and setting the table.


	2. Chapter 2

John woke up, quite late the next day. Sherlock's diary was lying on his stomach, apparantly he had kept reading until the very moment, where he fell asleep. Mary had brough Hamish to Harriet, spending some time with her, probably still trying to talk her into visiting and calling John some more.  
All this used to be quite important to John, but it seemed like the only thing in the entire house, which held importance, was the small, old, handwritten journal which was still just lying open on his stomach.  
He opened it, and continued reading.

He had been reading most of yesterday, so he was already nearly finished with the whole journal.  
He had been reading how Sherlock had hated himself and everyone else for a long time; even considered suicide more than one time - that part had been hard to go through for John, but he had never the less forced himself to read it all, just like Sherlock and him agreed, he had to read the whole thing.  
He had been reading how Sherlock had really truly been redeemed by the warmth and constancy of their friendship, just like John had been.

He had read how Sherlock had described how he slowly felt himself drawn into some big, black, whirl of something he had never known before, but labed 'love' in his mind palace. The mere thought made John's stomach twirl and twist; He had known the attraction between Sherlock and him, but never allowed himself to either act on it nor even explore the thought. The thought of Sherlock, who seemingly came to terms with it so easily, one-way loving John for months without any kind of response, made John sick with something he could only identify as a heavy feeling of guilt. He imagined Sherlock lying alone in his bed, starring into the cieling and wishing himself far away, to another universe, where perhaps he had imagined John next to him, and the thought of lying next to Sherlock did not seem strange or uncomfortable to John in either way; quite the contrary, he thought it might could be good. He closed the book, as he felt a need to confront himself with what exactly that big knot of unresolved feelings inside his heart contained of, hoping he could realize if he cleared his head a bit. The truth was that John didn't quite feel like now was the time - Yesterday he had come to Bakerstreet to tell Sherlock that the divorce-papers had gone through, and he and Mary was no longer officially married. He had hoped to find Sherlock and go on a case with him - forget all the mess for a short while. Instead he found himself even more troubled than before. The truth was that he hadn't informed Sherlock about the divorce at all yet, but surely he must have deduced it somehow - it was Sherlock after all. 

~o~

John layed there, alone. Fixing his eyes upon the cieling, thinking everything over. He tried to remember earlier cases and situations where he could've slipped in a hug or even a kiss; the thought seemed strange to him, and to be honest he had no idea what it was he was feeling inside. He let himself explore. Closed his eyes, picturing Sherlock face in front of him - picturing how every single beautiful curl swiped and danced in the wind, how he always managed to crack up his face in a broad, genuine smile. He took in a deep breath, and as he exhaled he imagined the what the next step would've been. His fingers tangling in with the curls, caressing them, feeling them, smelling them. Carefully moving them out of the way so he could see more of Sherlock's face. Oh yes, and the laughs they've had together. What if he had pressed his grinning mouth onto Sherlock's? What would it have felt like? He imagined Sherlock's big lips at the mercy of John's thin ones, imagined them slide up and down at each other, tasting each other and --  
He felt a slight twitch in his crotch, and had to stop.  
He was going somewhere of which he couldn't return - that much was certain. The question was whether it would be a good idea. His biggest concern - that Sherlock wouldn't agree with it - was now out of the way, and he felt that he had somewhat of a free choice. Still the whole thing with Mary was yet fresh, and he felt guilty for feeling ready to move on so quickly. Or - move back - depends on however you regard the situation. Sherlock had always been his toppriority, and Mary had been aware (and hated) that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ Johnlock is amazing ~  
> Also, please leave notes if you like the story and want me to continue! It makes me jump with joy whenever I get positive response~  
> And feel free to pop by on my tumblr and say hello: soffychubby


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